


a touchable dream

by gothyringwald



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Exhibitionism, Friends With Benefits, Huddling For Warmth, Idiots in Love, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Snowed In, Switching, Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21859927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: Billy and Steve have been sneaking around for a while, now, meeting secretly in an abandoned cabin in the woods. They’re both certain the other is only in this for sex, neither willing to put themselves on the line. But when they get snowed in, it’s not long before their true feelings come to the surface.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 48
Kudos: 435
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2019





	a touchable dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LazyBaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/gifts).



> Hey, LazyBaker, I really really hope you like this and it's what you were after! Merry Christmas! <3333
> 
> And thanks to S for looking this over for me and making some great suggestions <333

Snow crunches beneath Steve’s sneakers as he makes his way through the woods; his breath mists in the air before him. The dusk light is weak and grey, but he knows the path well enough that he could follow it in the dark. Not that he’d want to.

It’s crazy, really, to come out here after everything that’s happened, but Hawkins is a small town and there are only so many places to go that don’t require driving an hour out of town to the No-tell-Motel. And this doesn’t feel so sleazy.

The cabin comes into view, its windows blank behind rotting boards. It hasn’t been lived in for longer than Steve can remember—he doesn’t even know who owns it, if anyone alive does—but it’s quiet and out of the way. Secret. Safe.

A bitter wind blows past and a shiver runs down Steve’s spine. He steels himself as he steps onto the cabin’s porch, then pushes the door open. It gives way with a creak, and Steve moves into the musty cold air inside.

He’s here first, as usual. His heart sinks but he pushes that away and stomps his feet and rubs his hands, tries to get warmth back into them. It’s the first time he’s come out here in winter and he should have checked the fireplace, or something, but it’s too late now. And he’ll be warm soon enough.

There is a creaking sound from behind him and Steve wheels around, heart thudding.

The cherry of a cigarette glows bright in the near dark. 

‘Billy,’ Steve says. ‘You scared me. Jesus.’ Something flutters in Steve’s chest. Billy was early. Billy waited for _him_ , for once. Steve settles his hands on his hips. ‘Why are you waiting in the dark?’

’Wasn’t dark when I got here.’ 

‘But—‘ Steve stops before he finishes his thought. He was going to say, ‘But you don’t like the dark’, but it feels too much like the kind of thing a boyfriend might say. It’s the kind of thing a _friend_ would say, too, and before they started sneaking around Steve would have said it. But now…now he weighs every word before he lets slip something he can’t take back. ‘Whatever,’ he says, ‘I’m going to get some light in here.’

Steve feels around in the dark until he finds the kerosene lantern and box of matches they used the first time. He strikes a match and holds it to the wick. The flame catches, casting a warm glow over the cabin. It was a wreck when they first found this place, but they tidied it up a little. Enough for what they need.

Steve turns, and the lantern shines on Billy, sitting by the table, looking up at Steve. Ocean eyes twinkling. ‘Hey,’ Steve says again.

Billy’s lips twitch. ‘Hey.’ He crushes his cigarette on the table and stands. He takes the lantern from Steve, setting it down, and crowds in close.

Anticipation sparks in Steve’s veins but, beneath it, there is something like disappointment. It should thrill Steve, that Billy wants him as soon as he lays eyes on him, but sometimes it feels more like Billy wanting this to be over as soon as possible. Still, Steve doesn’t push Billy away, falls into the kiss when Billy closes the distance.

Lets Billy lick into his mouth, slide his tongue along Steve’s, catching on his teeth. Hands cradling Steve’s jaw, hot and a little clammy.

It always feels like the first kiss and the thousandth at the same time. Steve hums into it, hands snaking under Billy’s jacket, resting at his waist.

Billy pushes Steve’s jacket down, leaving it hooked over his elbows so it traps his arms by his side, and walks Steve back until he hits the wall. He rests his hands either side of Steve’s head, licks his top lip once, then twice, then pulls back.

Steve chases the kiss but Billy puts a hand over his mouth.

‘What do you want?’ The timbre of Billy’s voice is low, rough, sends a hot shiver through Steve.

Steve blinks. ‘Huh?’ Billy has never asked Steve that before. Is he asking—

‘What do you _want_?’ He’s looking at Steve with something Steve can’t place. Not quite lust, not quite annoyance. Something new. Or something Steve hasn’t noticed before. It sits warm behind his ribs. 

It makes Steve hope, but he asks, ‘Do you mean like…with sex?’ because he has to know if that’s all the question is. If that’s all this is.

Something flickers behind Billy’s eyes but it’s gone before Steve can figure out what it is. He shrugs one shoulder, slots a thigh between Steve’s. ‘Sure.’ He leans in. ‘So, tell me what you want.’

At Steve’s continuing silence, he adds, ‘C’mon, Harrington, it’s not a difficult question.’ 

‘Yeah, but,’ Steve says, finally shrugging out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He folds his arms over his stomach. ‘You’ve never asked me that before.’

‘Well, I’m asking you now.’

‘Why?’

‘What do you mean “why”?’

‘I mean…’ Steve presses his lips together. He should drop this. Just tell Billy what he wants but…well…if he starts then he might not stop. ‘You usually just, you know, go for it.’ And he does. Billy doesn’t ask what Steve wants, just takes. And Steve willingly gives Billy whatever he wants from him. And that’s fine because whatever Billy wants, whatever Billy takes, is always so so good.

‘You saying I’m selfish in bed?’

‘No?’

‘Maybe you want to put me in my place, huh?’

‘I don’t—‘ And…oh. This is just a game. Well, Steve can play, if that’s what Billy wants. So Steve pushes away from the wall and shoves Billy’s jacket from his shoulders. He fists his hands at Billy’s waist, pulling him in close. ‘You’re being a brat,’ he says, against Billy’s mouth.

Billy grins. ‘You wanna do something about it?’

‘Do you want me to?’

‘Jesus Christ, Harrington.’ Billy rolls his eyes. ‘I didn’t even mean—‘ He looks at Steve, eyes blazing, and Steve knows there’s something here that he’s missing. He doesn’t know why Billy is pushing this or what he wants from Steve but before Steve can even begin to figure it out, Billy is saying, ‘Just fucking shut up and kiss me, OK?’

And Steve can’t argue with that, so he threads his hands in Billy’s hair and kisses him with all he’s got.

Billy kisses back, hot and filthy, hands pressed to Steve’s chest. He slides them down Steve’s front, pushing Steve’s shirt up, then hooks them into Steve’s jeans. Fingers hot against Steve’s stomach. He tugs and Steve follows.

They fall onto the bed—the cleanest part of the cabin—tangled together on scratchy blankets full of holes. It doesn’t take them long to shed their clothes, fingers barely fumbling at buttons and zips. 

The first moment of skin on skin contact pulls a small groan from Steve. He smears kisses along Billy’s jaw, down his neck. 

Billy twists his fingers in Steve’s hair, pulls him away when Steve sucks and bites too hard, guides him back to his mouth. Their cocks slide together, maddening friction, arousal arrowing to Steve’s groin. 

‘You want it like this?’ Billy asks, hooking his ankles behind Steve’s back.

‘Mmm,’ Steve says, hips rocking forward, ‘whatever you want.’

Billy huffs and lets his legs fall, thighs bracketing Steve’s. He shakes his head and mutters something that sounds like, ‘Forget it,’ but then he’s leaning up and saying, ‘You gonna fuck me, pretty boy, or do I have to do everything myself?’

Steve rolls his eyes. ‘You’ve got to stop watching all those pornos.’

‘I don’t need to watch porn.’ Billy pushes at Steve’s shoulders then rolls onto his front.

Scars spiral across the broad expanse of his back, the tip of one curving into the wing of his shoulder blade. Steve presses his mouth to it, before he can stop himself, the gesture tender and too revealing.

‘Take your time,’ Billy deadpans, ‘I’ve got all night.’

Steve huffs and presses a hand between Billy’s shoulder blades, then pulls him down the bed, urging Billy’s thighs apart with his own. He grabs the tube sitting by the pillow, right where they left it, and pops the cap. 

Billy flinches—‘It’s fucking _cold_ ’—scowling over his shoulder at Steve. But his scowl melts away as Steve eases his fingers inside. He tilts his hips back, presses his forehead to the mattress. ‘You don’t—‘ His voice catches. ‘You know you don’t have to do that.’

‘I know,’ Steve says. He twists his fingers, flushes at the heat of Billy around them. ‘But you like it.’

‘Whatever,’ Billy says, rocking back, ‘just fuck me.’

The urgency in Billy’s voice shoots through Steve. He slicks lube over his cock—hissing in a breath at the cold before it warms up—and then pulls at Billy again, lifting his hips up. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes,’ Billy bites out. He reaches behind him, grabbing Steve’s ass and says, ‘C’mon, already.’

So Steve braces a hand on the small of Billy’s back and gives Billy what he wants.

The first moment of being inside Billy always threatens to overwhelm Steve—the tight heat of Billy around him, the way Billy clenches his hand into the sheets and the sounds he makes, unable to keep up his usual passive facade. 

But he can never savour it because Billy is impatient—digging his heels into Steve or pulling at him with his hands—and Steve, well, Steve will give Billy everything he wants. And this is the only time Billy will let him.

Steve snaps his hips forward, punching a ragged breath out of Billy, and then he does it again. And again. Each thrust pushing Billy up the bed. Steve braces himself on his hands, resting either side of Billy’s shoulders, chest pressed to Billy’s back. 

Sweat slicks their bodies; the slap of skin and their harsh breaths loud in the small cabin. Steve fucks Billy hard and fast, because that’s how Billy likes it, and there’s something about Billy that makes Steve lose control a little. Makes him want to be wild. 

‘Fuck, Harrington, that’s it,’ Billy says, pushing a hand beneath himself to curl around his cock. His other hand is fisted tight in the sheets, clenching tighter with each thrust.

‘Wait,’ Steve says, ‘let me,’ and bats Billy’s hand away. He jerks Billy off in time with the thrust of his hips, just the way Billy likes, and then Billy comes, spilling over Steve’s hand and tightening around him.

Steve fucks into him harder, chasing his own orgasm, and it’s not long before it rips through him, leaving him quaking. He spills into Billy, forehead pressed to the nape of Billy’s neck, hand tight on Billy’s hip. He stays like that a few moments before he rolls off of Billy and onto his back.

This is always the worst part—as the high of his orgasm recedes, reality comes crashing back. That one of them will leave soon, that they will pretend to only be friends until the next time they sneak away, that Steve will have to pretend he’s not the idiot who fell for Billy Hargrove.

Fuck.

‘Hey.’ Steve glances at Billy. ‘Were you just trying to rile me up when you asked what I wanted?’

‘I don’t have to try that hard.’

Steve props himself on an elbow. ‘Are you saying I’m easy?’

Billy snorts. ‘You are anything but, Harrington.’ He sits up, fishes in his discarded jacket for his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He taps a cigarette out, sticks it in his mouth, and flicks open his Zippo. 

‘What does that mean?’ Steve asks, pushing himself up. 

‘You think this’—Billy waves a hand between the two of them, cigarette smoke wafting with the movement—‘is easy?’

And Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. Because the sex is easy enough, it’s _after_ that’s hard. It wouldn’t be if he hadn’t been so stupid to hope that one day it might mean something. So he only shakes his head, hopes it means something that Billy wants to hear.

Billy takes a long drag of his cigarette, tilting his head back. His pendant glints in the lantern’s light. There’s a hickey at the base of the long column of his throat and Steve knows he’ll be pissed when he notices it, but for now, it only makes something possessive well up inside Steve. ‘You’re damn good at giving, you know, but you won’t take.’

‘What?’

It looks like Billy wants to say something but he only shakes his head, tilts his face away, a small furrow in his brow. ‘We should head home, it’s late.’

‘No,’ Steve says, thrusting out his hand to curl around Billy’s arm. ‘I want to know what you mean.’

‘It means, I asked you what you wanted, and you couldn’t even answer me.’

‘I—‘ Steve hugs his arms around himself, wishes he wasn’t naked. ‘I want whatever you want, I guess? I mean. I like’— _making love to you_ —‘fucking you. It’s the only time I—‘

‘Only time you what?’

‘Nothing.’ Steve turns away, pulling on his briefs. ‘You’re right, it’s late. We should go.’

Billy grabs Steve’s shoulder, turns him back. ‘Only time you what?’

‘That I can show you…’ Steve can’t finish that. He can’t tell Billy this. Can’t be the first one to say it. The only one. ‘Forget it.’

Billy licks his lips and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. There’s a fire in his eyes, some of that old anger Steve hasn’t seen in a while, not completely. But it gutters and Billy pulls his hand away and says, ‘Fine.’

‘Yeah.’ Steve’s stomach twists. He pulls on his clothes, the cabin bitterly cold after the warmth of Billy. But he doesn’t move toward the door once he’s dressed, can’t quite bring himself to leave. 

Billy doesn’t seem to have the same problem, though, as he shoulders past Steve and makes for the door. He pulls it open letting in a blast of icy wind. ‘Shit,’ he says, ‘it’s fucking crazy out there.’

‘Close the door!’ Steve moves over to stand beside Billy, pushing the door closed. ‘We’ll have to stay here,’ he says, not quite looking at Billy. A fucking blizzard trapping them together is all Steve needs, right now.

‘Don’t be a wimp.’ Billy reaches for the door again.

Steve stops him. ‘And don’t be an idiot,’ he says. ‘We can’t go out in that.’ He looks at Billy, and the look on Billy’s face is like a sucker punch. Billy’s gone white, eyes wide. Steve isn’t sure if it’s the cold, or the thought of staying here, but he rests a hand on Billy’s arm and says, ‘Hey, it’s OK. It’ll probably clear by morning,’ the tension of a moment ago forgotten.

Billy shakes him off. He takes his pack of cigarettes out, lights another, then stalks over to the table and sits in the one chair.

Steve can practically feel the irritation coming off of him in waves, so he retreats to the other side of the cabin, looking out the window at the flurry of snow. It’s hard enough that Steve worries they might get snowed in but they can’t go out there in that. 

An hour or so passes. Steve tries to break the silence a couple of times—‘It’s too bad we don’t have cards, we could play poker’ ‘Hey, who’s hotter: Tom Cruise or Rob Lowe’—but it’s clear Billy doesn’t want to talk. And Steve has no idea what he’s done.

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor makes Steve turn around. Billy is standing, chair held above his head, and before Steve can say anything, he brings it down onto the table and it splinters apart.

‘What are you doing?’

‘It’s fucking freezing,’ Billy says, ‘I’m going to start a fire.’

‘You can’t.’

‘I know how to start a fire.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Steve says, with a huff. ‘But the flue probably hasn’t been cleaned in years. You’ll smoke us out.’

Billy stares him down a moment and Steve waits for him to pick up the pieces of the chair and try to light a fire and probably kill them, anyway, just because he’s that fucking stubborn. But he only growls out, ‘Fuck,’ and leans back against the table.

Only, having a chair smashed over it must have weakened it, because it collapses beneath Billy’s weight, and Billy falls flat on his ass.

Steve barks out a laugh and then he can’t stop. It’s like all the tension that had seeped into him is expelled and he doubles over with it. ‘Holy shit,’ he says, wheezing. He waves a hand at Billy who’s scowling at him from where he’s starting to push himself up. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ Steve says and makes his way over to give Billy a hand.

Billy takes it, reluctantly, and lets Steve pull him to his feet. ‘You’re dead meat, Harrington,’ he says, but there’s little heat in it.

And Steve only smiles, squeezes Billy’s hand in his. It’s rough and warm and fits right into Steve’s.

Billy winces and jerks his hand away. 

‘You OK?’

‘Yeah.’ Billy bites at his palm. ‘Just a splinter.’

‘Show me.’ Steve holds out a hand. When Billy glares at him Steve waggles it and repeats, ‘Show me.’

Billy rolls his eyes but he places his hand in Steve’s.

Steve guides them to the lantern, turning Billy’s palm to the light. It’s not really bright enough to see well but he manages to get the splinter out. He brushes his thumb over the heel of Billy’s palm, thinks how all he wants to do is bring Billy’s hand to his mouth and kiss it, but then Billy pulls his hand away, a flush high on his cheeks, and a furrow in his brow.

Steve lets his hand fall to his side with a sigh. A shiver runs through him; it _is_ freezing in the cabin and will only get colder. The lantern won’t provide much warmth either. He goes back to the bed and wraps the blanket around himself.

Billy is pacing, floorboards creaking beneath the heavy stomp of his biker boots. _Thud creak, thud creak_. If Steve has to listen to this all night he’s going to go stir crazy.

Eventually, Steve grabs Billy as he passes and pulls him down to the bed. ‘Just sit, will you?’ he says. ‘And get under the blanket.’

Billy makes a grumbling sound and settles himself by Steve, pulling the blanket around his shoulder. He tugs until it slides off of Steve and Steve has to tug back. Steve grits his teeth and lets Billy have more than half.

They sit side by side in silence; it settles uncomfortably under Steve’s skin and he fights the urge to say something stupid to fill it. So he pulls the blanket tighter, picking at the edge, pulling loose threads and plucking them free.

‘Quit hogging the blanket,’ Billy says, tugging at it.

‘I’m not,’ Steve says, ‘you’ve got more than me,’ and tugs back.

They tug back and forth until somehow they’re tangled up in the blanket, with Billy pinning Steve down. 

‘Oh,’ Steve says. He wriggles, trying to free his legs from the blanket, but he ends up with his legs around Billy. ‘Well.’

Billy grins down at him, wolfish and hungry, and settles himself properly. He grabs Steve’s hands and presses them into the mattress, either side of Steve’s head. His hips are flush with Steve’s and they’re chest to chest.

‘Are you hard again?’ Steve asks and, well, he doesn’t need to because he can feel that Billy is, but he has to say something.

Billy rolls his hips down in answer, presses his thigh against Steve. ‘I’m not the only one.’

‘No.’

‘Tell me what you want, Harrington,’ Billy says. He presses his thumbs into Steve’s palms. ‘Just take it, OK, no questions asked.’ His eyes flash, the earlier frustration returning in full force, but there’s something else beneath it. Something like a plea. ‘For once, just take it.’

The words leave Steve breathless because, fuck, he never thought Billy would say anything like that. He’s not sure what Billy means and as his brain scrambles to make sense of it, he ends up blurting, ’Do you mean you want to fuck me?’

Billy laughs, amused and almost soft. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘I—‘ Steve’s throat works. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Fuck it,’ Billy says, shaking his head, and moving up onto his knees. Away from Steve.

‘No, wait.’ Steve pushes himself onto an elbow, reaches out for Billy. ‘I just meant…no one’s ever asked me that before.’ And how strange it is that Billy would be the first to ask.

‘You’ve gotta have some idea.’

Steve gives a small shake of his head. He’s never thought about it. Since he started this with Billy it’s been like being pulled headlong into a hurricane. And he hasn’t even thought to want _more_. Except, maybe— ‘What does it feel like?’

This brings Billy up short. ‘What?’

‘When I fuck you.’

Billy frowns but it gives way to a sly smirk. ‘You want dirty talk or something.’

‘No.’ Steve sucks in a breath, pushes himself up so he’s sitting, Billy straddling his lap. ’You asked what I wanted—I want you to tell me what it feels like.’

There’s a pretty flush sitting high on Billy’s cheeks, and his eyes are glassy in the lantern’s light. ‘I don’t…’

‘Tell me.’

Billy closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. ‘I don’t know. It feels…good.’

‘Yeah.’ Steve places his hand on Billy’s knee. 

‘And like…’ Billy chews on a thumbnail, opens his eyes. He looks down at Steve, eyes dark and hot, and says, ‘I feel powerful.’

‘Oh.’ Steve runs his hand up Billy’s thigh. ‘Powerful how?’ When Billy doesn’t answer, Steve says, ‘Can you still feel me, now?’ skin prickling at the thought.

Billy gives him a heated look then says, ‘Enough talking,’ pushing at Steve’s shoulder until he’s lying down again. He takes his jacket off, then grabs the hem of his shirt.

Steve curls his hand around Billy’s wrist. ‘Slower,’ he says, pulse racing.

A wicked grin twists Billy’s mouth, tongue between his teeth. ‘You wanna watch me, huh?’

And the way Billy says that sparks something in Steve because he had only been thinking about watching Billy _undress_ but now— ‘Yeah, I wanna watch you,’ he says, slow and careful, hoping Billy will get the meaning behind the words.

Billy takes his shirt off, slowly, revealing all the skin that Steve has touched and tasted so many times. He tosses the shirt aside, looking down at Steve. He unbuckles his belt for the second time, tonight, slowly dragging the leather through the loops. It clatters to the floor when Billy throws it behind him. ‘This what you want?’ He pops the top button of his jeans.

Steve nods. His heart is racing and he feels hot all over. His dick is pressing against his jeans but he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to take his eyes off of Billy.

Billy unzips his fly, pushing his jeans down his hips so he can draw his dick out of his briefs, tucking the waistband under his balls. He runs his fingers along the length of his erection, tongue darting along his bottom lip. ‘Or is this what you want to watch?’

Steve nods again. Can’t find his voice.

Billy’s grin widens and he curls his hand around his cock, fucks into his fist. He runs his other hand up his chest, thumb flicking his nipple, breath hitching on a low moan. His eyes flutter and his bottom lip is sucked between his teeth, his hips rolling.

Steve has touched Billy, been touched by Billy. Has seen Billy touch himself when Steve was fucking him. But he’s never just watched Billy. It’s so hot and Steve can tell that Billy likes Steve watching him. It’s in the way his eyes never leave Steve’s. How wet his cock is. How, even though he’s touching himself slower than usual, it’s still not long before his grip tightens and his breath quickens. 

‘Wait,’ Steve says.

Billy stills, hips twitching. 

‘I want to know what it feels like.’

‘Hm?’

‘What you said before. I—’ Steve presses his lips together. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

‘I think I can manage that,’ Billy says, then pushes his jeans all the way down, kicking them off. He leans over Steve, kisses him.

Steve curves his hands over Billy’s shoulders, running them down Billy’s back, skimming his sides. He can never get enough of touching Billy.

‘You know this works better if you’re naked, too,’ Billy says, hands on the waistband of Steve’s jeans. ‘Or maybe you’ve got a thing for me being naked while you’re…not.’

And Steve hadn’t thought about that but, OK, that _could_ be a thing. But not tonight. So he swallows drily and says, ‘You do it.’

Billy doesn’t ask what Steve means, just slips the button of Steve’s fly open, slides the zip down. ‘Up,’ he says, tapping Steve’s hip, then pulling his jeans off. Steve’s jacket goes next, then his shirt—Billy’s palms smoothing up Steve’s chest, thumbs brushing his nipples—thrown over the side of the bed. 

Leaving Steve only in his briefs. Billy tucks a finger into the waistband, teasing, before he rips them away and presses himself along Steve. Hot and hard above him, urging Steve’s thighs apart until they’re braced either side of Billy’s waist. 

Billy fists his hand in Steve’s hair, tilts his head back, kisses his neck. Biting and sucking. He trails kisses down Steve’s neck, his chest, mouthing at Steve’s nipple. Down to his stomach. Down down down. Takes Steve’s cock into his mouth, fumbles blindly for the tube beside the bed.

‘Fuck,’ Steve says, hands resting on Billy’s shoulders. And then Billy’s fingers, slick and cool, are pressing at him, _inside_ him, and— ‘ _Fuck_.’

Billy hums around Steve’s cock, a sound that’s part amused and part smug, as he twists his fingers into Steve. They brush against something and, oh, now Steve knows why Billy always acts like this is the best fucking thing. It’s indescribable. Incredible. Heat shoots down his spine, spreading out so he's hot all over, and his vision is sparkling. It’s so— It’s…

‘Billy, stop,’ Steve says, chest heaving.

Billy pulls off of Steve’s cock, his hand stilling between Steve’s legs. His lips are swollen and shining, chin slick with spit. ‘No good?’

‘Too good,’ Steve says, flushing.

Billy grins and moves back up, bracing himself with one hand by Steve’s head. The other, he presses to Steve’s chest, right over Steve’s thundering heart, and asks Steve a question with a look. When Steve nods, he moves his hand down, guiding himself into Steve. Slowly, so slowly, until he’s all the way there. ‘You good?’ 

Steve shifts his hips. It’s…strange. It kind of pinches and he feels so, well…full. ‘It hurts a bit.’ He shifts his hips again, breath hitching. ’It’s OK.’

‘Yeah,’ Billy says, knowing.

‘Does it always hurt?’

Billy nods. ‘It’s part of it. But it feels really good, too.’ He swallows thickly, looks like he’s straining to hold himself back.

‘You can move,’ Steve says, ‘it’s OK.’

And so Billy does. Slowly, but firm, easing out of Steve, then back in. Over and over, still slow, until it feels more good than painful. The stretch and drag of Billy’s cock, filling him, igniting him.

And Steve knows, now, what Billy meant about feeling powerful. He’d imagined that it would feel like giving part of yourself away, but it’s not like that at all. It’s like he’s the one taking something from Billy.

Steve had thought he’d been giving Billy what he wanted, but if this is how it feels for Billy then…it’s not just want. It’s more like _need_. And that means…

That means Billy needs Steve, too.

It unmoors Steve, sends a shockwave through him that isn’t just from the drive of Billy’s cock.

‘Billy,’ he breathes, fingers digging into Billy’s shoulders, ankles crossed behind Billy’s back.

Billy picks up his pace, but the roll of his hips stays long and steady, even as Steve can tell he’s getting closer. 

And when Billy comes Steve can _feel_ it, hot and wet and…fuck. Making Billy come is always heady but Steve had no idea it could feel like this. 

Billy rides out his orgasm, eyes squeezed shut tight, breathing hard. ‘Fuck. Steve.’ He opens his eyes and says, ‘Want me to go down on you? Finish you off?’

‘Stay,’ Steve says and then, ‘Touch me.’

Billy reaches between them, curling his hand around Steve’s cock, tight and warm. He jerks him off, while Steve holds Billy close. It’s slower than his earlier orgasm, coming on like a deep rolling wave. But when it hits him, it hits hard. Leaves him trembling.

‘Wow.’

Billy smirks at him but he looks as shattered as Steve feels.

Steve cups his hands around Billy’s face and brings him down to kiss him, long and deep and slow.

They break apart, look at each other, breaths warm between them.

‘So,’ Billy says. He waits a moment, two, then rolls off, settling onto his back, arm touching Steve’s.

‘Yeah.’ Steve isn’t sure what comes next, now that they’re stuck here for the night. Their first night together and it’s not even by choice. He looks over at Billy. A sheen of sweat covers every inch of him; his cock rests against his thigh, and one hand rests on his stomach.

‘Guess we should sleep.’

Steve hums. Sleep does sound good. But something tugs at him, when he glances over at Billy. The way he’s looking at Steve. It’s the way he’d looked at Steve, earlier, when he asked Steve what he wanted.

‘Billy.’

‘ _Harrington_.’

Steve fiddles with the edge of the blanket, looks at Billy, back to the ceiling. ‘When you asked what I wanted—‘ He presses his lips together. Fuck it. ‘Were you really asking about sex? Or something else?’

Billy shrugs and turns away, reaching over the side of the bed. Probably looking for his fucking cigarettes again. ‘You got any smokes?’ he asks, turning back, shaking an empty Marlboro packet at Steve.

‘Don’t do that,’ Steve says. ‘Don’t change the subject.’

Billy sighs and flops down. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes,’ Steve says.

A beat and then, ‘I wasn’t—‘ He scrubs a hand over his face. ‘It’s not either or.’ When Steve remains silent, he adds, ‘I wasn’t _just_ asking about sex.’

‘Then why did you let me think you were?’

Billy chews on his thumbnail. ‘I want a smoke first.’

Steve rolls his eyes but he finds his own pack of cigarettes and holds it out to Billy. He pulls it away before Billy can take it and says, ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you meant?’

Billy snatches the cigarettes, taps one out, lights it. Takes a drag. ‘Because _you_ assumed I was only talking about sex.’ He blows smoke toward the ceiling, eyes raised.

And Steve thinks that maybe he knows what the look Billy gave him meant, now. After Nancy and then Robin—which, OK, that wasn’t personal, at least—he’s been reluctant to put himself on the line. But if Billy was asking what Steve thinks he was…well, Billy had _tried_ and Steve fucked it up. So Steve says, ‘I didn’t want you to be.’

Billy looks up, gaze like a knife. His eyes soften as they scan Steve’s face. ‘Yeah?’

Steve nods. ‘I wanted you to be asking what I wanted with, you know…us.’ His heart thuds hard. ‘Were you?’

Billy nods, once, quick and small. He’s still looking at Steve, eyes wide but guarded. ‘You’re not just a fuck. You never were. But I’m not— I want, I need to give you what you want, too.‘ His nostrils flare. ‘I’m not _replaceable_.’ The words comes out fierce but there’s doubt beneath them. Almost a question. 

No. Not a question. Another plea.

_Want me._

_Need_ me.

‘Then I want…’ Fuck, Steve’s heart is beating so hard, like it wants out. He’s not sure how to finish that, how to tell Billy everything he wants without rambling like an idiot. So he says, ’I want _you_ ,’ and hopes it’s enough.

‘OK,’ Billy says, exhaling smoke through his nose. He ashes the cigarette with a flick of his thumb.

‘OK?’ Something twists in Steve’s chest. ‘That’s it?’

Billy’s breath shudders out of him. ‘Me too. I want…’ He looks up at Steve. ‘It’s what I want, too.’

‘OK,’ Steve says, smiling a little. He takes the cigarette from Billy, takes a long drag. Nicotine buzzes pleasantly in his veins. But beneath it, there is the wonder that he never saw how Billy felt. He exhales, turns to Billy. ‘I’m an idiot, aren’t I?’

‘Yeah,’ Billy says, with a wink, ‘but don’t feel too bad about it.’

Steve nudges his shoulder against Billy. ‘You’re such a shit.’

‘Whatever, Harrington,’ Billy says, ‘you still want me.’ And it’s almost his usual cockiness but Steve can hear the uncertainty beneath it now. See it in the tilt of his shoulders, the purse of his lips.

‘Yeah,’ Steve says, letting out a long breath, ‘I do.’

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the poem ‘You’ by Carol Ann Duffy:
> 
> _There you are on the bed, like a gift, like a touchable dream._


End file.
